


Monsters Calling Home

by Ragingbulldurham



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M, yeah I don't know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragingbulldurham/pseuds/Ragingbulldurham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Absolutely not,” were the first words out of Owen’s mouth. Claire reached over and grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together. “You’ve got to be out of your minds. You want to go back?” </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They're walking heavy to the beat of a broken drum

**Author's Note:**

> So this was partly inspired by a rewatch of "Lost", and Jack Shepard screaming, "we have to go baaaaack!" 
> 
> Inspiration comes from the oddest places. 
> 
> The title is from the song by Run River North, and if you think this is a terrible idea and I'm an idiot for taking this on, uh, you can tell me, but try to cushion the blow. Enjoy!

“Absolutely not,” were the first words out of Owen’s mouth. Claire reached over and grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together. “You’ve got to be out of your minds. You want to go back?”

When InGen called Owen up and asked him if he could meet them at their corporate headquarters, he had immediately declined.

“Aren’t you curious what they want?” Claire had asked that night after he told her about it. She was setting the table as Owen finished making dinner in the kitchen, and she couldn’t see his reaction to the question, but she could guess. Tight jaw, clenched fist.

“No,” he answered, and there was a moment of silence before he appeared by the table, sliding his fingers along her waist and dipping his head, pressing a kiss to the bottom of her chin. “They can’t possibly want anything good.” Claire reached down and placed her hand on his larger one still resting on her hip.

“Wouldn’t it be better to _know_ what they plan on doing?” She asked.

“Wouldn’t you know if something big was happening?” He countered.

Claire had been placed in another position in the Masrani Corporation after being cleared of any wrongdoing in the incident (it helped, tremendously, that footage of her luring the t-rex out of her paddock armed with only a flare had been widely circulated. The public loved her, and Masrani was trying their damndest to capitalize on that small goodwill). Claire shrugged.

“I think I’m being told things on a need to know basis,” she replied, with a nonchalance that she didn’t feel, and he didn’t buy. Owen frowned.

She had expected to be deluged with work; thought that they would use her expertise, her intimate knowledge of the park, as Masrani tried to clean up the mess as best they could, but instead she had found herself as a figurehead. Their pretty little spokesperson to trot out during press conferences and events. She wasn’t supposed to answer any questions (“To avoid conflict with the lawsuits, Claire. You understand, I’m sure”), she was supposed to stand there and remind the public that she had _saved_ all those people (people who wouldn’t have been in danger in _the first place_ if it hadn’t been for them, but that was a fact that Masrani was hoping desperately was overshadowed by the grainy image of Claire running through the debris, the t-rex hot on her trail).

She hated being underutilized, and Owen hated them for making her feel that way.

Claire was goddamn smarter than anyone in that whole company _and_ InGen combined, and they were absolute idiots for not allowing her to do what she did best.

(It also didn’t help that every time they ran footage of Claire and she had to watch it, she ended up waking in the middle of the night from a nightmare, her breathing ragged and her body trembling, as Owen wrapped her in his arms and spoke in soothing tones to calm her down. Listening to her sob that she wasn’t a hero, that it was her fault, that she felt like a fraud, made him want to _hurt_ someone. Made him ache for her.)

Owen dropped his forehead to rest on her shoulder, and she moved her hand up and tangled in it in his hair.

“I think it might be a good idea,” she said softly. “To go. To find out what they want. There’s a reason that they’re calling you up after all this time.”

Unlike Masrani with Claire, InGen had severed ties with Owen immediately following their return to the mainland. They shoved the blame for their part in the whole fiasco squarely on Hoskins, who, obviously, wasn’t in a position to refute, and offered Owen a generous severance package to basically keep his mouth shut during the legal proceedings that were happening in the wake of the incident.

"Hush money,” he said to Claire, seething over the documents they had sent over for him to sign.

“Take the money,” Claire insisted. “They _owe_ you that and so much more.”

He had, reluctantly, feeling a little like the money was tainted, and shoved it in a bank account that he had touched exactly two times. Once as a down payment on a little bungalow that Claire had fallen in love with when they decided to make it official and move in together (instead of him staying in her apartment night after night and pretending like it was only temporary). It felt right to use the money on Claire, on something _good_ , on building a home, a future with her.

And recently.

He had made a withdrawal to buy a ring. The ring that was currently burning a hole in his pocket. But he wanted the proposal to be perfect, Claire deserved nothing less, and the right moment just hadn’t happened yet.

After the money had been deposited and the papers had been signed, he hadn’t heard a word from InGen.

Until that morning when he received the call from the CEO of InGen, John Tiernan- a bastard Owen hadn’t liked before the incident, and certainly not after- while he was at work (the San Diego Zoo had somehow looked past his flaws and offered him a position a couple of months after they settled in San Diego. Claire had taken him out to dinner to celebrate being gainfully employed once again, and leaned over during dinner to tell him that his real present was that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath the stunning green dress she had on. She had flashed him a wide, crooked grin, and he had immediately asked for the check).

“We’d like you to come in and talk to us about a few projects that we would love your input on,” Tiernan had been purposefully vague when Owen pushed for more details, and Owen had hung up the phone feeling frustrated with a healthy side dose of fear.

He had itched to call Claire to tell her all about it, but he knew she had a busy day at work and this was absolutely the last thing she needed to be worrying about, so he had held off until he heard the sound of her heels on the tiles of their front foyer.

She had appeared, looking worn and tired, and he had brushed a kiss along her cheek as she stuck a finger in the pot of sauce on the stove top.

"Smells delicious,” she gave him a wan smile, and he suddenly couldn’t help himself, he tugged her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. “Hey, hey, what’s that all about?” And he had explained about the phone call, about Tiernan’s cagey behavior.

"If I go to this meeting," Owen said finally. “Would you come with me?”

Claire turned so that she could face him completely, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"Of course. We stick together, right? That’s what we do.”

He had never been more grateful for her silent strength, her hand warm and solid in his, as Tiernan laid out in detail their plan (“We’ve made mistakes, but we’re ready to talk about next steps. I don’t think we should just scrap years of money, time, and effort because of one incident,” he had said, and Owen had fought the urge to punch him in his face.)

InGen wasn’t done with the island.

Owen should have known that money would win out over common sense, over hard evidence that playing God with these animals was dangerous and stupid. They were sending people back to the island.

And they wanted him to go back.


	2. Digging for worth in a land under a foreign sun

“They’re insane,” Owen seethed, throwing open the car door.  “They seriously want to go _back_. Haven’t we learned anything in twenty damn years?” Claire was quiet, letting his rage burn, climbing into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind her.

Tiernan had explained that they wanted to send out a team, try to contain the assets, get the park back up and running. Broke down the numbers for them, as if it was that simple, as if it was a matter of numbers and profit margins, and not a place where twice now, _twice_ , a group of people had gone out to that island and a much smaller number returned. 

“You have a tyrannosaurus rex on the loose,” Claire argued. “You think it's going to be as easy as finding your dog when he digs a hole under the fence in your yard?” 

“We managed to capture the t-rex once before,” Tiernan pointed out. “It’s not an impossible to think we might be able to do it again.”

“No, no,” Owen said, shaking his head vehemently. “ _No_. This is a terrible idea. Let nature take its course.”

“What about the raptor, Mr. Grady?” Tiernan asked, and Owen sucked in a breath. _Low blow_ , Claire thought, giving Owen’s hand a squeeze. No one knew more than she did how much guilt he felt over Blue being left alone on that island, without her pack, without anyone.

“We very nearly died on that island,” Owen said in a low voice. “Many people _did_ die. You managed to capture a t-rex once, and then look what happened.”

“In all fairness,” Tiernan replied. “The t-rex is only out because of Ms. Dearing. Otherwise, she would have remained in her paddock.” It was Claire's turn to suck in a breath. Letting the t-rex out of her paddock was the one of the few things in the whole sorry affair that Claire did not regret. It had been a decision made of desperation, but had _worked._

Owen’s free hand clenched, his face turning red.

“ _Otherwise_ ,” he hissed. “You would have had over 20,000 causalities, because your goddamn Indominus Rex would have massacred everyone!” Tiernan sighed, and then held up his hands in surrender.

“I wanted to give you the opportunity to return to the island and help locate and care for the one remaining raptor,” Tiernan’s voice was calm, and it was beginning to grate on Owen’s nerves.

 _I’m not the insane one here,_ he reminded himself, grateful for Claire’s solid presence beside him, keeping him grounded and in the moment. _I’m not the one suggesting we re-open the park._

But bringing up Blue had done exactly what Tiernan had hoped it would do. Owen had a responsibility to Blue. The thought of her alone out there made him ache a little, and if there was anything that was going to change his mind, make him return, it was Blue.

But Owen had a responsibility to Claire, too. They had a _life_ here, and he wasn’t going to jeopardize that in order to go back to Isla Nublar.  They had barely made it out the first time, and he couldn’t imagine leaving her and knowing that there was a good chance that he wouldn’t come back.

“No,” Owen’s answer was firm, and Tiernan frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tiernan said. “I think you would have found our compensation more than generous.”

“It’s not about the damn money!” Owen exclaimed.

“What about you, Ms. Dearing? You know the park better than anyone,” Tiernan turned to look at Claire, and Owen felt something dangerous flare up inside of him.

 _No_.

He couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , speak for her. But he knew Claire, he had held Claire in his arms night after night as she woke up with nightmares in those first few weeks, her voice raw from screaming. He had listened to her heartbreaking sobs that she had been the one in charge, she had been responsible. He _knew_ Claire, inside and out, and he knew her well enough to know that there was no way in hell she would return to that island. There wasn’t even the pull of Blue to bring her back.

(But he also knew how much guilt she felt. His guilt over Blue was nothing compared to how Claire felt. The guilt was suffocating, and Owen would have given anything to help ease it from her. He hoped that Tiernan didn’t know that, didn't know how much responsibility Claire felt towards the island, towards those animals. He hoped Tiernan didn’t know if he really wanted to get her to go, those were buttons to press.)

“And as someone who knows the park better than anyone,” Claire replied, her words crisp. “I know better than to go back.”

“I think we’re done here, then,” Tiernan announced, and Owen stood so quickly from his chair that it tipped backwards. But Tiernan was right, they were done there, and once they were both on their feet, he turned, tugging Claire along with him, but she stopped suddenly, spinning on her heels.

“Don’t do it,” she pleaded. “It was a mistake, we never should have tried to...” She shook her head, and swallowed hard. “We were trying to play God, Mr. Tiernan, and we were thoroughly, and _violently_ , reminded that we had no right to do so. It’s not going to bring you anything but more destruction and devastation if you return. It's not going to make you more money. Simon Masrani might have been foolish, but at least his intentions were pure. This is _greed_ , nothing more, and you have the chance to stop this before it's too late.”

Tiernan didn't respond right away, his mouth in a tight line, and then he nodded his head and said,

"Thank you, Ms. Dearing, we'll take that under advisement."

And that had been that, they had made their way out of the building, hands tangled together, and didn't speak a word until they stepped out into the bright sunshine.

Owen ranted and raved, but Claire was quiet, biting down hard on her lip and looking out the window as Owen drove them home.

“No one told me,” she only spoke up as Owen pulled the car into the driveway, picking up his hands and running her thumb over the callused skin of his palm. “No one told me that they planned on going back. They've been trotting me out at press conferences, at events, and not once, _not once_ did anyone think to let me in on what they were planning.” Owen turned off the car, realizing suddenly that Claire was just as angry as him, angrier even, but that her anger was simmering, white hot.

Not loud and explosive like his, but just as dangerous. 

“They knew that you would tell them what a terrible idea it was.” That much was obvious. Masrani had been keeping her in the dark, purposely giving her tasks that were far beneath her intelligence and talents. To keep her close, they _needed_ her, but to keep her far enough away so that she wouldn't go digging, wouldn't start putting the pieces together. 

“They're making a huge mistake,” Claire replied. “And how many people are going to die this time?” Her voice broke on the question, and Owen pulled her into his arms the best he could in the confined space. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, brushing her wet cheek with his thumb, and pressing a kiss to her lips. “This is on them, okay? This has nothing to do with us. We said our piece. We told them this was a bad idea.”

“No,” Claire shook her head. “No, it _does_ have to do with us. This isn't...this is still our mess, _my_ mess, that they're cleaning up. Someone needs to be there, stop them, someone needs to make sure if they're going to do this again, that they do it correctly. I thought it was over, I thought if we just left the island alone, we would be fine. But it's not. It's not. I still work for Masrani, I'm still responsible.” 

Owen froze, feeling something hard and icy creep up his spine. 

“What are you saying, Claire?” He swallowed hard. 

“I'm saying I think we need to go back.” 

  
  



	3. The children call bitter words of a strange tongue

Claire knew that Owen absolutely did not want to return to Isla Nublar, but she also knew they had to go back.

Or, at least, _she_ had to go back. The park had been her responsibility, and she needed to go back, right as many wrongs as she could, and she thought that Owen would have understood that. 

But from the way his jaw had tightened, his fists had clenched, when she told him she thought they should return, he wasn't understanding her at all. 

“I need to go back,” she clarified. “I think I need to go back.” And at this, Owen swore under his breath and punched the steering wheel.

“Absolutely fucking not, Claire,” he exclaimed. “You think I'm just going to watch you go back there? By yourself? Have _you_ lost your mind?” 

“All those people died because of me,” Claire hissed, spinning around in the passenger seat to face him.

“It wasn't...” Owen started. This was well trod territory for them. He knew just how heavy the guilt was. He was the one to hold her after a nightmare, he knew better than anyone the weight of the responsibility Claire bore. But he still couldn't believe she would be willing to return 

“It _was_ ,” Claire interrupted 

“No, you weren't the one who told them to use non-lethal weapons, you weren't the one who asked for more teeth,” Owen argued. 

“I shouldn't have let you go into that paddock! Not until I had Lowery scan again. And if that hadn't happened, the Indominus Rex wouldn't have gotten out, all those people wouldn't have died.” She buried her face in her hands and started to sob, her shoulders heaving, and Owen pulled her to him, the best that he could in the small space. 

“Hey, hey,” he carded his fingers through her hair, “You didn't know. You thought she had gotten out. You couldn't know.  


Claire gripped his shirt in her hands, twisting the fabric between her fingers, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He could feel her hot tears on his warm skin, and he kept repeating nonsense hoping it would calm her down, and eventually she did, her sobs quieting. 

It was quiet in the car save for the sound of Claire's ragged breathing, and she gave a shuddering sigh, before tilting her head up to look at him again.

“I have to go back,” she said, her voice firm. “I have to go back.” 

“Okay,” Owen finally said. “We'll go back.” 

“Owen...” Claire began.

“No,” he shook his head. “We either go together or not at all, and if you need to go back, then we need to go back. We need to go back.” 

 

* * *

 

Owen would give InGen this much, they moved quickly.

Once they called Tiernan back and told him they were willing to return, things happened faster than Owen was really comfortable with. He thought he would have a little more time to try to convince Claire not to go, and if that didn't work, get his mind wrapped around returning. 

They were going back to Isla Nublar (back to Blue.  _Blue._ Finding Blue and making sure she was okay might make this whole idiotic idea worth it). Despite the alarm bells going off in his head, despite knowing better, they were going back. 

“I'm bringing different shoes this time,” Claire announced as they were packing. 

“I don't know,” Owen replied, shooting her a grin. “You kicked some serious ass in those heels. Not to mention you looked damn good doing it.” She couldn't help but return his smile, shaking her head, and tossing a pair of running shoes in her suitcase. And then, with a cheeky grin, she picked up a pair of pumps and tossed them in too. 

They were leaving in fourteen hours. Not that Owen was counting. 

Claire shut her suitcase with a loud thud, zipping it up, and then crossed the room to where Owen was standing in front of the closet, his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. She stepped behind him, sliding her hands on his waist and resting her cheek against his back.

He knew she was terrified. She had admitted as much the night after they had called Tiernan, Owen wrapped around her, their legs tangled together, his nose buried in her hair. 

“I was so sure this was the right decision until it was too late to take it back,” she confessed. “And now I'm terrified.” She shuddered, and he dropped a kiss to her bare shoulder. 

“You? I'm scared shitless,” Owen said, and she let out a short laugh that was more liquid than solid. 

“I'm so sorry,” Claire's voice broke. “I know you don't want to go back, and I know that you're doing it for me.” And he wasn't sure what to say, because he _was_ going for her, but he was also going for him. For Blue. To make things right.

She had been right (as she so often was), they needed to right some wrongs. 

“Don't, please don't,” he breathed into her flushed skin. Claire blamed herself for enough things, she didn't need to add anything else to that list. He was going of his own free will. And if something went wrong, he didn't want her to blame herself, he didn't want that for her. 

Owen turned around, wrapping her in his arms, dropping a kiss into her hair. 

“We're going to be fine,” he reassured. “It's just a few weeks, right? A few weeks and then we'll be back here. And then we're done with them, we don't owe them anything.” Claire didn't reply, but she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the bed, pressing hot kisses to his lips. 

“I have to pack,” he argued halfheartedly. 

“You've still got fourteen more hours,” Claire answered between kisses. “How much time do you need to pack a few pairs of board shorts?”

* * *

 

It was hot. 

Owen had forgotten how hot Central America was. The heat was stifling. 

He stepped out of the helicopter, and turned around, offering a hand to Claire. They ducked under the blades to where InGen had a jeep waiting for them, Claire's hand still tucked in his. 

“Welcome back to Isla Nublar,” one of the InGen employees was waiting next the car, and he stuck a hand out that Owen reluctantly shook. “I'm Joe, and I'll take you to the hotel. Fortunately, it wasn't touched during the Indominus Rex incident, so we were able to get it back into working shape in no time.”

“We'd like a high floor,” Owen spoke up, as they climbed in. “Preferably a room taller than a t-rex.” He turned to grin at Claire, but her attention was out the window as they sped along. He reached over and placed a hand on her thigh, and she glanced over at him and gave him a sad smile. 

Owen knew she was terrified, but he had no idea how terrified. 

Because despite the heat, her body pressed against his as they bumped along towards the park, Claire was trembling. 


End file.
